Rancorous

Chapter 34

PRESENT

Herlina

I feel my soft blanket comforting me. Awareness of my physical body filtering to my consciousness.

The warmth of the sun seeps through the layers of fabric over me and reaches my skin.

Peaceful.

As I blink my eyes open, scenes begin to drift to me, slowly, one by one.

I glance to the other side of my bed. He's gone.

Painful.

A nightmare. That's what my mind tries to catalogue the events as. But there's no mistaking the vividness of the images, or the vigor of the echoed emotions.

Tears spring to my eyes again, and exactly like last night, the power they have overwhelms me. So, I let go.

My whole world has fallen apart.

Everything I once knew to be and found comfort in has been completely shattered.

The last thread holding everything together was destined to break. Even if Brevin hadn't told me of my mother's transgression.

Because the truth is more powerful than ignorance, she will always demand to be seen, and she will always win.

I rub away at my wet cheeks.

Brevin wanted this all along. Wanted to see my heart break into pieces by his own doing. And everything up until last night had been by his own hand.

My mother is responsible for her own actions.

But, Brevin showed me those photos of her last night with ill intent. He didn't do it to bring the truth to light because he cared and would help me get through it.

He did it because he wanted to relish in the way it would affect me. Now, I have this massive weight on my shoulders to figure out how to deal with.

On my own.

I inhale deeply, his familiar scent all around me. Only instead of it evoking a feeling of home, all it does is mercilessly squeeze my chest in pain.

A shower and a load of laundry is what I need. To wash away everything him.

I sit up and take a moment to press my fingers against my lips. The clear memory of our kiss replays as a lonely tear glides down my cheek.

I always wanted him to be my first kiss. But never like this.

My eyes roam to the scattered photos on my bedroom floor.

I close my eyes. If I don't look at them, maybe they'll disappear. Maybe they're just a figment of my imagination.

But they're not. They're real.

My father deserves to know the truth. He needs to know, as much as it hurts, he needs to know.

I slide out of bed. My limbs weighing like a ton of bricks. Gathering the photos on the ground with a heavy heart, I drop them face down on my desk.

After managing to take a shower despite having the energy to do absolutely nothing, I sit on my bed and look at the clock. It's half past ten in the morning. Glancing out my bedroom window, there's about half a foot of snow on the ground. The sun shines bright, already melting some of the snow on the tree branches.

The pictures on my desk taunt me, the ruin they hold is something I don't want to face.

Just then, a knock at my door startles me.